


touch me, touch me

by FantasySwap



Series: touch me, touch me [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Breathplay, Dom/sub Undertones, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied Past Klaus Hargreeves/Ben Hargreeves, M/M, Mild Kink, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-02 01:59:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17878958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasySwap/pseuds/FantasySwap
Summary: It’s been fifteen years since Klaus last saw Diego. For Diego, it hasn’t been long at all.





	touch me, touch me

**Author's Note:**

> trash trash trash but after that ‘torture’ scene it had to be done

Klaus knows when Diego comes home.

 

Ironic really, calling this house their home, but it’s where they grew up and it’s where most of Klaus’ best memories are rooted so home it is. It’s where he had his first love, his first kiss, his first heartbreak, his first high. So many memories hang in the air like spirits, permeating the air and suffocating Klaus. It’s been fifteen years since he set foot in this house and even still, sitting down on his childhood bed makes him feel thirteen years old all over again.

 

Diego has a way of entering a room like he owns it that makes everybody else in said room believe that he owns it as well. His quiet confidence mixed with his false bravado tend to make most people uneasy, but Klaus has never been ‘most people’ and, after spending a few nights locked up in a mausoleum with angry dead people screaming his name, Klaus doesn’t scare easy. This is what draws Diego to him. This is what makes him interesting.

 

Klaus is sitting on the edge of his bed when he feels the air around him shift, sees Diego’s feet on the floor in front of him before he ever hears the man. He’s taller than Klaus remembers, broader around the shoulders. Looks meaner too, like the world has chewed him up and spat him out and morphed him into something he never used to be. Carved a man out of the boy.

 

There’s a scar running around his face to almost the back of his head. It looks nasty. Klaus doesn’t ask how he got it.

 

“You just get out of rehab?” Diego asks, jerking his head upwards in a greeting. The air around them fizzles with tension, Klaus unsure as to what will happen next. Back when they were kids Diego never actually did anything— never touched Klaus. But Klaus could always feel him watching, feel Diego’s eyes on him at all times. It felt nice back then, deprived of attention and forced to compete against his siblings for any kind of love from their father. Being the centre of Diego’s attention, for better or worse, felt incredible.

 

He’s surprised how so much can have changed in fifteen years: his siblings, their appearances, their personalities.

 

This hasn’t changed, though. Klaus still feels electric when Diego looks at him like that: hungry and unpredictable and dangerous. Like he’s waiting— like he wants Klaus to provoke him.

 

“You been keeping tabs on me?” Klaus answers breezily, looking back down at his fingers and picking at the skin around his nails. Keeping eye contact with his brother is too intense and his hands are grubby; they provide a good distraction. A good excuse.

 

“Would you even mind if I had?” Diego challenges him.

 

“Depends what you’ve seen.” Klaus tells him, feeling more and more like a child being reprimanded by the second. He’s wearing a sinfully tight pair of black jeans and the only t-shirt he could find in the wash that wasn’t filthy: a monochrome crop top that’s far too small for him, meaning his nipples push through the fabric, obscenely visible. He feels slutty, exposed, on display.

 

He looks up.

 

Diego looks ravenous.

 

“I’ve seen enough.” He replies slowly. “I’ve seen you get high, smoke or swallow or inject it: whatever gets you stoned, man, right?” Klaus flushes and looks down suddenly in shame, although he has no idea why. His drug habit has never exactly been a secret amongst anybody who knows him and he’s never cared about what anyone else thinks of it. Nobody but Diego, it seems, whose approval matters the most to him.

 

Diego’s hand darts out so quickly that Klaus almost doesn’t see it coming; he grips Klaus’ cheeks between his fingers and jerks his head back upwards so that he’s forced to look the man in the eye again.

 

“Look at me,” Diego commands, and keeps a painfully firm grip until Klaus stops squirming. “ _Look_ at me. I’ve seen you take girls home. I’ve seen you take boys home. I’ve seen you get _fucked_.”

 

Klaus’ eyes flutter shut, a shudder wracking his whole body. Goosebumps rise to his skin and he gasps breathily, wondering when he sunk so low as to get off on his brother watching him take cock, wondering why no one ever realised he was so fucked up.

 

“Stand up,” Diego tells him releasing the death grip he has on Klaus’ face to stand back a few steps, waiting patiently like he already knows Klaus will obey him. Like he’s used to people following his orders. Klaus is no different— he struggles to his feet and stumbles a little, the pot he smoked earlier messing with his sense of balance.

 

Before he can blink he’s being shoved against the nearest wall, head cracking back on it sharply. Diego doesn’t stop, doesn’t ask if he’s okay, but Klaus doesn’t mind. It’s just the way they were raised: every man for himself. You either keep going or you get left behind, and Klaus has absolutely no intention of being left behind. He’s just not sure he can keep going either; at least, not without Diego’s guidance.

 

Diego’s hand drags down Klaus’ chest, nails scraping the exposed skin where the croptop stops, before he reaches the waistband of Klaus’ jeans. He pops the button and, without even bothering to unzip them, worms his way inside Klaus’ boxers. Diego’s hand is warm and strong and calloused, and when his fingers curl around Klaus’ cock it feels like the world is imploding.

 

“Did Ben ever do this for you?” Diego hisses, saliva flirting into Klaus’ face. “He ever touch you like this? He ever make you come?”

 

Diego strokes him fast and possessive, angry almost. There’s no lube, no wetness to make the slide easier and the rough friction burns so good that Klaus is breathless with it, eyes tearing up unexplainably. Diego is such a solid weight against him that he doesn’t think he could move even if he wanted to - couldn’t push him away or get his hand out of his own trousers - all he can do it just stand there with Diego taking most of his body weight and feel the way his brother works his cock.

 

“Answer me, Klaus.” Diego spits, the rough pads of his fingers dipping into the slit again and again where precome gathers and dribbles down the shaft. Klaus doesn’t think he has the capability to breathe right now, let alone form words to answer Diego’s question. Heat settles in Klaus’ belly and he tries thrusting up into Diego’s fist but the man places a hand over Klaus’ chest and pushes him back against the wall so forcefully that his breath is knocked from him. Diego’s hand slides up his chest, over his collarbones to wrap around his neck, and squeezes just lightly.

 

Klaus’ airflow is cut off for all of two seconds before his cock is throbbing and he’s coming inside his jeans, making a mess of himself like Diego probably wanted him to. Diego eases him down onto his bed, brushing curly hair out of his face in an uncharacteristically tender move. Klaus feels exhausted: spent and washed out. The comedown from his earlier joint is kicking in and, combined with the afterglow of his fucking intense orgasm, he feels like he could sleep for a thousand years.

 

“Klaus,” he hears Diego mutter faintly into his ear, that voice still sending shivers down his spine despite him having just come hard enough to knock himself out. He moans incoherently, not sure if he’s encouraging Diego to speak or asking him to go away and try again later. It doesn’t matter: Diego will take it whichever way he wants to and Klaus won’t be allowed to argue with that.

 

“Don’t show up high to the funeral.” Diego says. It’s the last thing Klaus hears before he drifts away, into a darkness void of screaming spirits. When he wakes up, he knows, Diego will be gone and his high will have evaporated, leaving him wondering whether or not he should take something else to get through the day or if he should cling onto the slim hope that this actually did happen and that he shouldn’t turn up baked, or Diego will be angry.

 

Klaus wonders what Diego would do to him if he disobeyed what is clearly an order. He wonders ifDiego would choke him again— would hold him up against the wall and make his little brother rut against him desperately until he comes or passes out, whichever arrives first. Maybe Diego would even suck him off, but Klaus expects it would more than likely be the other way round. He’d be fine with that as well, Diego’s cock sliding down his throat, Diego’s rough hands gripping Klaus’s hair and forcing him to choke on it. Holding him down as he comes into Klaus’ mouth or over his face.

 

There’s only one way to find out, Klaus decides.


End file.
